


Everything changes, everything stays the same

by irisdouglasiana



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Gen, look I know 5b will not be happy so let me have this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 00:32:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13915563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisdouglasiana/pseuds/irisdouglasiana
Summary: At some point, Ubbe lost track of time. But when he finally sails back to Kattegat, the years melt away.





	Everything changes, everything stays the same

**Author's Note:**

> Because "you are no longer my brother" seriously bummed me out, guys. I need closure.

At some point, Ubbe loses track of time, and when he finally sails back to Kattegat, he finds himself struggling to count the seasons since he left in defeat with Lagertha and Bjorn. Eighteen years, at least, but maybe nineteen. Certainly not twenty. No, it can’t have been that long, can it? He stands at the prow and his heart swells as the clouds dissipate, revealing the shape of Kattegat in the distance; the lonely rugged hills and the deep winding curve of the bay he never thought he would see again. _Home. At last. Home._

Everything changes, everything stays the same. Hvitserk is at the dock waiting for him with a grin on his face and his wife and son and daughter at his side, and before they’ve even finished tying up the ship he jumps on board and pulls Ubbe into a hug, and the years melt away between them.

“Look at you, old man,” Hvitserk teases when they finally break apart, tugging at Ubbe’s gray hairs.

He pushes Hvitserk’s hand away. “At least I haven’t grown fat like you.”

Hvitserk laughs. “Come, you should meet my wife and children.” At first, the girl and boy hide shyly behind their mother, but Hvitserk eventually convinces them to step forward. The boy looks exactly like Hvitserk at that age, and Ubbe reaches out to tousle his hair. Hvitserk lifts the girl onto his shoulders and leads Ubbe down the path to the great hall. Many of the structures look the same, and he sees some familiar faces, but many more strangers. Their progress is slow and they stop frequently as people see Ubbe and call out his name. Kattegat has not forgotten him.

“I am sorry you were not here for my wedding, or the birth of my children,” Hvitserk says quietly as they continue their walk. He bounces the girl up and down on his shoulders and she giggles. “I am sorry we lost so much time.”

“So am I.” The words feel inadequate; they stick in his throat. He swallows. “How is Ivar?”

“Ivar is Ivar.” Hvitserk smiles and looks down. “We had some difficult times, at the beginning. I’m sure this is no surprise. But things are better now between us. I think we are both wiser than we used to be.”

“I would hope so.” Ubbe doesn’t say it, but he imagines if things had truly gone badly between his brothers, one or both of them would be dead. “We were all foolish. Myself included.”

Hvitserk nods solemnly. “I won’t argue with that.”

Ubbe chuckles and shoves his shoulder. “You haven’t changed.”

“Oh, but I have,” Hvitserk disagrees. They pause outside the entrance to the great hall, taking in the sight of Ivar’s red and black banners. “Are you ready?”

As ready as he’ll ever be. He pushes open the doors and steps inside to see his youngest brother sitting on the throne, waiting for him. For a moment Ubbe remembers a much younger Ivar, no more than eight or nine years old, asleep on their father’s throne with his head drooping to the side and his mouth hanging open. Ubbe had found him there early one morning. He had picked him up and carried him back to his bed over his sleepy protests without thinking much of it. _Little brother_.

He isn't so little anymore. “So you’re back,” Ivar says, letting the words hang in the air for a moment, just long enough to let Ubbe’s doubts creep back in. Then he grins and raises his voice. “Ubbe has returned! That is worth celebrating.”

So they feast and drink their fill, just like old times. Ubbe keeps waiting for Ivar to pull some trick and turn on him, but it doesn’t happen. The evening flies by as they reminisce and share stories of battles won and lost, of family and friends and enemies, of sorrows and joys, of all the small precious things that make up a life. Yet there must be some signal that he misses, because after a few hours, everyone in the hall abruptly clears out. Hvitserk is the last to go. He embraces Ubbe once again, still more than a little tipsy. “I think our father would be pleased, my brothers,” he says fondly, looking back and forth between the two of them, before stumbling out.

And then the only one left is Ivar, sitting on the steps in front of the throne. Ubbe takes a seat next to him. “You look well.”

“You look old. We all do,” Ivar says. He takes a sip of mead. “You didn’t bring your family with you. I hear you have children now.”

“Four daughters. The youngest was just born last year.” The truth is that Ubbe had been unsure of his reception in Kattegat, even now, and he hadn’t wanted to risk it.

“I am happy for you. It is good to have children,” Ivar says wistfully.

Ubbe braces himself for some cutting remark to follow, some insult, but it doesn’t come. He allows himself to relax, just a little. “It appears that being king suits you. I must confess, I did not think you would last as long as you have.”

Ivar snorts. “Nobody did. I proved them wrong.”

“Sometimes being wrong is not such a bad thing,” Ubbe says. He refills his cup, and then Ivar’s. “I’d like it if you didn’t throw it in my face this time,” he adds.

“Don’t tempt me,” Ivar grins. He sets his cup down and the smile fades from his face. “But you deserved it, for siding with Lagertha.”

Lagertha has been gone for years now. “You’re still angry.”

Ivar gazes at Ubbe. “For Father, the five of us raised an entire army to avenge him. We conquered two English kingdoms. We made Aella and Ecbert pay. And for Mother?” He spreads his hands. “Hvitserk and Sigurd, I knew they didn’t care, even though she raised them on her own, raised all of us, after Father left. But you, Ubbe. I thought you, at least, wanted to see justice done. I suppose I should have known that I would have to do it alone. Just like I’ve always done everything.”

Ubbe is silent for a long time. “I allied with Lagertha because I knew that was the one thing that would hurt you the most,” he finally says. “Because you stole the army out from under me. Because Hvitserk sided with you. Because you took things that I thought should have been mine.” It is a relief, almost, to say these things out loud after all these years.

“You were jealous,” Ivar says.

“Yes,” he admits. Jealous and bewildered. He had known Ivar for Ivar’s entire life, of course, but until York, Ubbe thinks he had never really seen him for who he was. Part of him hadn’t wanted to see. “And what I did was wrong. I don’t expect you to forgive me.”

“I was always jealous of you, too.” Ivar toys with the cup in his hands and then sets it aside. “I wanted to make you suffer. I don’t expect your forgiveness either.”

Some part of Ubbe wants to say _I forgive you_ , but another part of him holds back, even now. Not everything can be forgiven, nor should it be. “You killed Sigurd,” Ubbe says, and watches Ivar go still.

“I didn’t mean to,” he says through gritted teeth. “You can think what you want, but I didn’t mean to.”

Ubbe watches him steadily. “I remember you said he made you kill him, because he lied about you.”

Ivar lets out a mirthless laugh. “Of course I said that. How could I live with myself otherwise? Believe me, I have paid the price every day for what I did. I will pay for it until I die.” He lowers his head and sits there hunched over, lost in thought, and Ubbe knows Ivar has never forgiven himself either.

“I believe you.” Ubbe watches the sparks leap from the dying fire and the shadows flicker on the wall. Kattegat is full of ghosts. They pass through the room unseen and unheard, Ragnar and Aslaug and Lagertha and Sigurd and too many others to name. Long after he and Ivar are both gone, perhaps their ghosts will wander these halls together as well, watching in silence. “I have too many memories of this place,” he says slowly. “I remember one night when you were still a baby and our father was away. We were all here in the great hall, Hvitserk and Sigurd and me, and Mother holding you in her arms. A couple of the men made some remark about you, I don’t recall what they said, but the entire room went quiet. She had them whipped right there on the floor of the great hall; she was so angry.

“And I’ll never forget this—afterwards, she unwrapped the blanket around your legs, and she stood and held you up for the whole world to see, and she said, ‘This is my son, and there is nothing wrong with him.’ In her eyes, you were always whole.”

Ivar stares at him, astonished, and looks down at his legs. His voice is hardly more than a whisper, thick with emotion. “She said that?”

“She did. She had her faults, but she loved us in her own way. Hvitserk and Sigurd were wrong about her.” Ubbe draws his knees up to his chest. “After I left Kattegat and went to England with Lagertha and Bjorn, I thought a lot about what went wrong between us. Why everything fell apart. Where the desire to hurt each other came from. Why did we do it?”

“Maybe it was fate,” Ivar says quietly.

Ubbe raises his eyebrows. “Do you believe that?”

Ivar tilts his head back and stares at the ceiling. “I believed it, once. I’m not so sure anymore. Maybe it was our own choices that drove us apart, and fate that brings us back together.”

Ubbe can agree with that. Perhaps there is hope for them after all. “You’ve changed.”

“Only in some ways.” Ivar straightens up and grins. “You’re still the same, Ubbe. You’re just as soft as always. No, don’t argue; it’s true and you know it.” He pauses and raises his cup to Ubbe. “But for all that, you’re my brother. You always have been.”

Ubbe smiles and lifts his cup in return. “And you’ve always been an ass. My brother.”

What more is there to say? Everything changes, everything stays the same. Everything begins again.


End file.
